«I didn't mean to call this early,» I said, «I'll call back later.» His voice sobered. «What's wrong, Anita? You sound all stressed.» Great, I couldn't even control my voice enough to fool a teenage boy. Truth was, I'd finally realized that I wasn't just asking Edward to come hunt monsters, I was asking him to leave his family to come hunt monsters. Edward used to live to find bad things that could test his skills. He lived to be better, faster, meaner, quicker, more deadly than the monsters he hunted. Then he'd met Donna, and suddenly he had other things to live for. I wasn't sure he'd ever walk down the aisle with her, but he was the only father the kids had, and the only husband Donna had. Her first husband had been killed by a werewolf. An eight-year-old Peter had picked up his father's dropped gun and finished off the wounded shapeshifter. He'd saved his family while his father's body was still twitching on the floor. In some ways Edward fit in just fine. Edward picked Becca up from ballet class, for God's sake. But… but what if I got him killed? What if I got him killed and Peter and Becca lost another parent because I was too chickenshit to handle my own mess?
«Anita, Anita, are you there?»
«Yeah, yeah, Peter, I'm here.»
«You sound strange, like, scared almost.»
Peter was too damned perceptive for comfort sometimes. «I just…«Oh, hell, what could I say that would fix this? «Let Edward sleep in, don't wake them.»
«Something's wrong, I can hear it in your voice. You called because you're in trouble. That's it, isn't it?» he asked.
«I'm not in trouble,» I said. In my head, I added, yet.
Silence on his end of the phone for a heartbeat. «You're lying to me.» He sounded accusatory.
«Well, that's a hell of a thing to say,» I said, with as much indignation as I could muster. I wasn't lying, not really, I was just fudging the truth. Okay, fudging like double chocolate with three kinds of nuts, but it still wasn't completely a lie.
«Your word, your word of honor,» he said in a very serious voice. «Tell me you didn't call to get Edward's help with some nasty monster problem.»
Shit. «You know you're being a pain in the ass here,» I said.
«I'm sixteen. I'm supposed to be a pain in the ass, or that's what Mom says. Give me your word that you're not lying to me, and I'll believe you. Give me your word, and I'll believe everything you've said, and I'll hang up, and you can go back to not being in trouble.»
«Damn it, Peter.»
«You won't give your word and then lie, will you?» His voice held question, and almost wonderment, as if he didn't quite believe it.
«No, not as a general rule, no.»
«Edward said you wouldn't, but I wasn't sure I believed him. But you really won't, will you?»
«No,» I said. «Happy now?»
«Yes,» he said, though his voice didn't sound exactly happy. «Tell me what's wrong. Why do you need Edward's help?»
«I need to talk to Edward, but I won't tell you why, or what it's about.»
«I'm not a baby, Anita.»
«I know that.»
«No, you don't,» he said.
I sighed. «I don't think you're a baby, but you are a kid, Peter. You're grown-up for sixteen, but I'd like to keep some of the darker shit away from you until you reach at least eighteen. If Edward wants to share with you later, that's his lookout.»
«You might as well tell me, Anita. If I ask, he'll tell me.»
I hoped he was wrong, but was afraid he was right. «If Edward wants you to know, he'll tell you, Peter. But I am not going to tell you, and that's final.»
«Is it that bad?» he asked, and I heard the first thread of worry.
Shit, again. I just couldn't win conversations with Peter. I'd only had a handful of them lately, but he always seemed to talk me into a box. «Get Edward on the phone, Peter, now.»
«I can handle myself in a fight, Anita. I can help.»
Shit, shit, and double shit. I was not going to win this conversation. «I'm hanging up now, Peter.»
«No, Anita, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.» And his voice went from that cynical grown-up to an almost childlike panic. The panic had worked better before his voice deepened. «Don't hang up, please, I'll get Ted.» The phone hit wood so hard, I had to put the phone away from my ear. He came back on, saying, «Sorry, dropped the phone. I'm getting dressed. I'll go knock on their door. If it's bad enough for you to call Edward, then you need to talk to him. I'll stop being a kid and just get him for you.» He was a little angry with me, but mostly frustrated. He wanted to help. He wanted to grow up. He wanted to fight for real, whatever the hell that meant. What was Edward teaching him? Did I really want to know? No. Would I ask? Yes, unfortunately, yes. God, I did not need another problem on my plate right now. I thought about trying to lie to Edward, say I'd just called up to chat about the latest issue of Mercenaries Quarterly, but if I wasn't up to lying to Peter, Edward was absolutely out of my weight class.
chapter ten
I SAT ON the edge of the bathtub, waiting for Edward to come to the phone. I'd insisted on privacy for the phone call, though I'd told Jean-Claude and Micah who I was trying to call. Jean-Claude had said only, «Help would not be unwelcome.» The comment said, clearly, that he was worried. The more worried I realized he was, the more worried I got.
I heard noise over the phone, movement. The phone was picked up, and I heard Edward's voice say, «Hang up the other extension, Peter.» A second later he spoke directly into the phone. «Anita, Peter said you needed help, my kind of help.» His voice was that empty-middle-of-nowhere accent. It was his normal voice; when he was playing Ted Forrester, good ol' boy, he had a drawl.
«I didn't say I needed help,» I said.
«Then why did you call?»
«Can't I just call to chat?»
He laughed, and the laugh was strangely familiar. I realized it was an echo of Peter's laugh earlier, or maybe Peter's laugh was an echo of Edward's. They weren't genetically related, I knew that, so what was with the laugh? Imitation, maybe.
«You would never call me just to chat, Anita. That's not what we do for each other.» He laughed again, and murmured, «Called to chat,» as if the idea were too ridiculous for words.
«I do not need you to be condescending, thanks anyway.» I was angry and had no right to be. I'd called him, and it was me I was angry at. I was wishing I hadn't called—for so many reasons.
«What's wrong?» he asked, not taking offense. He knew me too well to let a little angry outburst bother him.
I opened my mouth, closed it, then said, «I'm trying to decide where to start.»
«Start with the dangerous part.» There, that was Edward, not start at the beginning, but start with the dangerous part.
«I did call for backup, but I have other backup already. It's not you, but it's not a bunch of amateurs either.» I was being honest. The wererats were almost completely ex-military, ex-police, or ex-criminals. Some of the werehyenas were the same flavor of professional. I had help. I shouldn't have called Edward.
«You sound like you're trying to talk yourself out of asking me for help,» he said, and his voice was curious, not worried, just curious.
«I am.»
«Why?»
«Because Peter answered the phone.»
There was a sharp intake of breath. «Hang up the phone, Peter,» Edward said.
«If Anita's in trouble, I want to know about it.»
«Hang up the phone,» he said, «and don't make me ask again.»
«But…»
«Now.»
I heard the phone click.
«Well,» I said.
«Wait,» he said.
I sat on my side of the phone in silence, wondering what we were waiting for. Finally Edward said, «He's off.»
«Does he listen in on phone conversations a lot?»
«No.»
«How do you know he doesn't?»
«I know…«He stopped himself, and said, «I don't think he does. I think you're a special case for Peter. He's in Donna's old room. I told him he could keep the phone if he behaved. I'll talk to him.»
«If he's in Donna's old room, where are you and she sleeping? Not that it's any of my business,» I added.